Enough World And Time
by SprkySage
Summary: Commodore Norrington must remember his past and a little girl in order to save a member of his family. Elizabeth must remember old feelings to save the man she loves. Bootstrap must find Will before it's too late.
1. Prologue: The Tide Is High

Summary: Commodore Norrington must remember his past and a little girl in order to save a member of his family. Elizabeth must remember old feelings to save the man she loves. Bootstrap must find Will before it's too late.  
  
Pairings: I know that this gives it all away, but E/N  
  
Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. Everything else is mine.  
  
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* * * Prologue: The Tide Is High * * *   
  
Lieutenant James Norrington once again found the young Elizabeth Swann climbing the ropes of the boat and he was amused.  
  
"You better not let your father catch you, Ms. Swann," James said, motioning for the girl to climb down. "We'll both get in trouble if you do."  
  
"I just wanted a better look at the boat," Elizabeth said, grinning at the lieutenant. "Besides, father says that he can never stand to be too mad at me for very long.  
  
"Yes, the voyages do tend to get a bit boring after a while, Ms. Swann," he said sympathetically. "But won't you please come down from there?"  
  
"Will you tell me more about what made you want to sail?"  
  
"What? You mean the stories?"  
  
"Yes lieutenant… I want to hear about the one about the children that never grow up."  
  
"They fly through the seas and skies of the Emerald Star, fighting against the evil pirates that orphaned them," James told her quietly.  
  
"They fly through the air like this?" Elizabeth asked as she jumped from the ropes.  
  
James's eyes widened and he stepped forward to catch the young girl. The governor would kill him if anything happened to Elizabeth under his watch. He was only nineteen—he was too young to die. And, even if her father didn't kill him, he didn't think he would be able to live with himself if anything ever happened to the girl. He was quite fond of the adorable little trouble-maker. And he gave a huge sigh of relief as she fell lightly and easily into his arms.  
  
"The name of their leader is Peter," James continued as he set the girl down. "And his mission, as their leader, is to defeat the pirate with the hook. He jumps from cloud to cloud with the lost boys fighting Captain Hook and his pirates."  
  
James started pointing from cloud to cloud. Then, out of nowhere, a girl appeared in the air right above them. She lingered, suspended, for a moment, and then started a free fall… straight into the pile of extra mast fabric. James ran to check on the girl, whose face seemed to be frozen in a grimace. She looked to be around six or seven years of age—a few years younger than the governor's daughter.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked.   
  
"Daddy?" the little girl asked, turning towards James. "No, you're not my daddy. You're a sailor like the ones in the picture books. You look a little bit like my daddy."  
  
The little girl had a strange accent that James had never heard before. And she was dressed in an odd sort of dress that was cut off at her knees.  
  
"Were you fighting the sky pirates?" Elizabeth asked the little girl.  
  
"Like Peter Pan?" the little girl asked, looking a little confused. "I never met a pirate. My daddy says that most of them were bad. He says that pirates killed my great-great-greatest ever grandfather."  
  
"Are you magic?" little Elizabeth asked.  
  
"I'm a sprite," the other little girl said. "That's what my daddy says. And he says that one day I'm to meet a pair of people on a boat. Are you James and Elizabeth?"  
  
"Yes," James answered, having a little trouble saying much more.  
  
"My name is Carissa Davenport. I have to go now. My daddy's expecting me back soon, but I'll see you again."   
  
With that, she disappeared… vanished into thin air.  
  
"Miss Elizabeth," James said, his voice cracking. "It would be best if we didn't tell anyone about this. I don't think they'll believe us."  
  
And so, it started…  
  
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AN: Carissa Davenport is from the future... And this scene happened a week or so before the appearance of Will Turner.  
  
Feedback appreciated... even if you do feel the need to flame me. 


	2. Chapter 1: You And I Both

Summary: Commodore Norrington must remember his past and a little girl in order to save a member of his family. Elizabeth must remember old feelings to save the man she loves. Bootstrap must find Will before it's too late.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. Everything else is mine.  
  
*********************  
  
Chapter 1: You and I Both  
  
Commodore James Norrington sat in his study staring at the pages of a book he'd had for two years. It was a volume of assorted poetry, but it wasn't the words that he was looking at. In the margins were childlike sketches. The one that he was staring out was a sloppy, but beautiful tableau of a perplexed version of himself accepting a kitten from a much younger Elizabeth Swann. His brow creased as a memory flash popped into his head.  
  
"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?" James asked.  
  
"It is," Elizabeth answered simply.  
  
Two words, and they'd been resounding in his head for the past couple of weeks. He still felt, for the most part, numb except for a dull ache in his chest. He'd been the bigger man and freed her of her promise, what else could he have done? Remembering the moment, he let out a sad smile. He really should have been more upset over the public humiliation, or angry at Turner, but none of that really mattered. Maybe he'd even deserved it.  
  
"James," a little girl's voice came from the doorway. "You look sad."  
  
"Oh, you're back again?" James asked, turning from his desk towards her. He tried to give her a smile. He couldn't see her clearly; she was standing in the shadows.   
  
"Are you happy to see me?" she asked, uncertainly.   
  
"Carissa," James said, "I'm happy you're here, but I can't actually see you."  
  
She stepped into the light. It was the same little Carissa. She was still wearing the same sort of strange clothing he'd seen on her the last time—blue trousers with a light exotic fabric tied around her waist and a white top. She hadn't changed much in the two years that had passed since he'd see her. Her eyes still had that same interesting shape—almost Asian. She hardly looked any older. But then, magical beings weren't supposed to age, now were they?  
  
"But why do you look so sad?" she asked. "Should I go away?"  
  
James wasn't sure that he could take another display of disappearance from this young girl. Every time he watched her disappear into thin air, it always gave him a fright.   
  
"No, better not. I was just thinking about something sad, but now that you're here, I can think of something happy," he said, forcing himself to smile for the young sprite's sake.  
  
"James, are you sad because of Miss Elizabeth?"   
  
The child was smart. He knew that he should probably make her stop talking… He should tell her that this wasn't something that should be concerning her, but he had an earnest desire to be completely candid with her.  
  
"Yes. How did you know that?"  
  
"It's why I was sent back to you," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "I'm supposed to help you remember."  
  
"Sorry, remember what?" He tried to ask the question in dulcet tones as he saw fear mounting in her eyes.  
  
"Remember me."  
  
"Carissa…" James started uncertainly. He was beginning to think that the sprite-child was confused. "Of course I remember you."  
  
She looked like she was on the brink of tears. "You only remember 'little sprite.' I'm supposed to make you remember ME."  
  
"I'm afraid that I don't understand what you mean, little sprite," he said, kneeling before her to take hold of her hands—giving in to the strange and oddly familiar desire to protect her like she was his own.  
  
He watched as she took a deep breath and grimaced. He felt himself trembling. His legs felt weak. Suddenly, he felt the sensation that he was falling. The room started to spin.  
  
"Don't let go, James. Pretty please."  
  
And in an instant, they were gone.  
  
Elizabeth had spent the entire evening on her balcony. Her day had been horrible. She'd spent it picking a fight with, first, her father, then Will. She felt in her bones that something was about to happen, but they'd ignored her. She'd been about to force herself to let go of the feeling of imminent excitement, but King Henry, the cat, turned up. King Henry only ever turned up when something monumental was about to occur. Days before Barbossa and company invaded Port Royal, the cat had jumped all over James Norrington in order to get his attention… Then, it had given up and run to the Swann household, and disappeared the next morning. He didn't turn up at the Commodore's doorstep until after the whole adventure had died down.  
  
"Well hello, King Henry," she cooed as she stooped to pick up the cat. "I've missed seeing your majesty around."  
  
The cat just meowed and stretched it's head towards the Commodore's large house. Elizabeth looked in that direction and caught sight of the profile of what looked to be girl about ten or eleven years old. She was climbing the vines that clung to the house. Elizabeth couldn't make out the face of the girl; she was shrouded from the moonlight. A light and refreshing breeze blew in from the sea, pushing the clouds out of the way.  
  
"Carissa!"  
  
She didn't look a day older than the last time she'd seen her… or the first time she'd seen her. Knowledge of Carissa was the only thing that she could not share with Will… and it was the only thing that she shared with James. She also shared the burden of care and concern for the little girl. She gathered up her skirts so that she could climb down the trellis.   
  
"I didn't know that you saw me climb into his house," a quiet voice said from an arm chair in the corner of her room. "If I'd known, I would have waved."  
  
Elizabeth's eyes widened, as she turned towards the young woman sitting in the dimly lit corner of the room. "You were just over there. Hang on a minute. You look… different."  
  
The girl was now wearing a linen skirt and bodice. She looked quite a bit older… just a year or two younger than Elizabeth.  
  
"I suppose that I would," the younger girl said, tiredly. "You're used to seeing 'the little sprite' as James used to call me."  
  
"I'm afraid that I don't understand," Elizabeth said. "You never looked any different before. Why now the sudden change? And why now are you in two places at once?"  
  
"I don't know how to explain it to you. I guess you could say that my knowledge of magic has grown," Carissa sighed. "But I'm here only to make sure that you don't go after me and James. He'll be disappearing for a week."  
  
"Do you mean that you're kidnapping him… or the little you is kidnapping him?" Elizabeth asked, looking perplexed.  
  
"No, I'm just taking him on a trip to a place that he needs to remember, and you can't follow."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because this is his journey," Carissa said, testily. "You don't want to spend any time with him right now, anyways. You just stomped on his heart and chose Will Turner."  
  
"I didn't know that you knew that," Elizabeth said, quietly. "But it isn't as if he hadn't dashed my hopes once or twice himself."  
  
"I remember. And I understand," Carissa said, slumping back into the chair. "This isn't supposed to be a punishment for you. The point is, I need to take Commodore Norrington on a voyage, and you need to stay here to cover for him."  
  
There was a tense pause. Carissa was the one to break it.  
  
"Lizzie, I promise to bring him back."  
  
"His will be a difficult absence to conceal," she said with a sigh. "Can't you at least tell me where you're taking him? That might make it easier."  
  
"I can take you there, but only for a moment," Carissa said, holding out her pinky finger. "Link up."  
  
Elizabeth experienced the same dizzying sensations as James had just moments before. Things went black, then white. And suddenly, she was looking out onto a metropolitan skyline from the roof of a very tall building.  
  
"Elizabeth," the soft, deep voice of the Commodore sounded in her ear.  
  
She turned around to see a wigless James. As a result, he looked quite dashing. He was wearing loose linen trousers and a strange style of shirt that she'd never seen before, but it seemed to match the fashion of the other men surrounding them. She reached out to touch the fabric. It was also linen.  
  
  
  
"It's called a button-down," the sixteen-year-old Carissa told Elizabeth. She turned to James. "Where's mini-me?"  
  
"You ran off in that direction," he said, pointing towards the elevators. Then, he added tentatively "Do you remember what happened to her yesterday?"  
  
Carissa's eyes welled up with tears. "Yes, James. I do." She took a deep breath and started off in search of her younger self.  
  
Elizabeth watched as James gently tugged at her elbow, and leaned into Carissa to whisper something in her ear. Elizabeth couldn't make out what he was telling her. She only saw that it made a single tear fall onto the girl's cheek. James, who Elizabeth generally thought was very stingy with any show of emotion, pulled the girl into a hug and smoothed her hair.  
  
"I just never got to say…" Carissa nearly sobbed, then she ran off in the direction of her younger self.  
  
Elizabeth was too shocked for words. She just stared at James. It seemed like he was strangely at home in these surroundings. He looked these men, moved like these men, and was attracting the unashamed glances of all the women around him. What surprised her even more was that no one shouted any warnings against impropriety at the Commodore's unchecked show of affection.  
  
"Elizabeth," James said, trying to read the shock on her face. "The child's been through a horrible week."  
  
"You don't have to explain anything to me, James… Except, perhaps why you don't seem to be bothered by the strangeness of this place."  
  
"I've been here for several months."  
  
"But I only just saw your little sprite climb into your window."  
  
James chuckled. "I find it better not to question the magic of the little sprite. I'd go cross-eyed." He paused. "I'm actually quite happy that the two of you turned up. I was beginning to worry about my absence. Elizabeth, I need you to deliver a message to your father. And tell him that I've taken an illness. I have to stay here for the child a little longer."  
  
He handed her the paper.  
  
"How much longer?"  
  
"Are you asking by the standards of your time or ours?"  
  
"Yours—she's already told me that you'll be gone from Port Royal for a week."  
  
"I'll probably be here considerably longer. Maybe a year."  
  
"James," Elizabeth said uncertainly. "I'm not sure that Carissa is completely good anymore. She's so different. The light in her eyes is almost gone."  
  
"She would not hurt me, Elizabeth. Nor would she harm a single hair on your head. Trust that. I swear on my life that she would not."  
  
"I trust you," she said, turning to take in the view.  
  
"Thank you," he said reaching to touch her cheek. And Elizabeth didn't turn away.  
  
The two Carissas looked on from the other end of the roof of the Empire State Building.  
  
"Does that mean that they will remember us now?" the younger Carissa asked.  
  
"James remembers a little bit and Elizabeth will start to remember soon," Carissa told her younger self, patting her on the head. "Let James take care of you, and I promise you that you'll see daddy again. And when strangers ask, call him uncle James."  
  
"Will I see mommy again?" asked little Carissa.  
  
"Yes," Carissa said, stroking her younger self's hair. "I have to take Elizabeth back now, but I'll come back to see you soon. Don't leave James."  
  
Memories flooded Elizabeth's brain. Surfacing was an old feeling that she thought had completely evaporated years ago. Now…  
  
"Forgive me," James said, gently retracting his hand.  
  
"Not at all," she said, giving him a look that she hadn't given him since she was fifteen.  
  
"Elizabeth, it's time for me to take you back."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Turner will be waiting for you," James said, his eyes clouding over. "And I must get the little sprite back home."  
  
"Lizzie!" the young Carissa exclaimed. "Don't go."  
  
"Carissa, I already told you," the older girl said. "Elizabeth has to go back, or everyone will think that she and James are dead. You don't want everyone to be sad, do you?"  
  
Little Carissa looked like she was about to burst into tears. Elizabeth noticed that she was now looking at the Commodore quite desperately. Almost as if she was afraid that he would leave and never come back… It was a look that Elizabeth knew quite well. She often wore that look in her early acquaintance with James Norrington. Seeing that look of desperation in little Carissa's eyes made Elizabeth wonder if… But no, Carissa-The-Older assured her that Norrington would return to Port Royal.  
  
James also noticed the little sprite's distress. In the best fatherly manner that he could manage to dredge up, he knelt in front of the little girl and murmured into her hair that he would not leave her alone. He told her that he would stay as long as she absolutely needed him… until she was ready to take him back.  
  
Then, he turned to the older Carissa. "I mean that. You have me whenever you need me, and however long you need me."  
  
As Elizabeth looked on in amazement, she felt a tap on her shoulder. The older Carissa was extending her pinky finger. "It's time to go back. Quick, while no one is watching."  
  
Once again, Elizabeth felt the dizzying effects of Carissa's time-traveling magic. And in half a moment, she was back in her bed chamber. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Carissa wiping away her tears.  
  
"I'm sorry," Carissa said. "It's just hard going back to that week. I'd just lost my parents and the funeral was the day before."  
  
"James is to be your new father?"  
  
"No. He does pretend to be my uncle, for quite a while, though." She paused, and plucked a book from a shelf. As she flipped through the book she said, "He'll come back to you, you know. He'll always come back to you."  
  
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AN: A few of you might have already figured out exactly who Carissa is in relation to James Norrington because I've been pretty heavy handed with it.  
  
The Next chapter will take Elizabeth back into her own past and remind her of a betrayal... but will also provide insight...  
  
Let me know if you're interested in seeing scenes of Norrington in contemporary New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco.   
  
Feedback appreciated... Flame me if you like, but I'd like reasons. 


	3. Chapter 2: Heart of Mine

Summary: Commodore Norrington must remember his past and a little girl in order to save a member of his family. Elizabeth must remember old feelings to save the man she loves. Bootstrap must find Will before it's too late.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. I'm borrowing Nabakov and his Lolita for a moment or two here and there. And if you get the other references I make, you probably know who they actually belong to... Everything else is mine.  
  
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Chapter 2: Heart of Mine  
  
He'll always come back to you.  
  
Elizabeth let those words roll around in her head for a moment.  
  
Disapproval, wonderment, and a hint of hope shone in Carissa's eyes as she turned back towards Elizabeth, whose eyes fell to the sketch in the book. She saw the pencil version of herself looking adoringly up at James, as they both held King Henry the kitten.  
  
"I never meant to hurt him," Elizabeth said, defensively. "Hasn't he already forgiven me?"  
  
"I know you didn't want to hurt him. Everybody knows that you didn't want to hurt him. You couldn't help wanting to save Will—childhood friend, and a man that you love. You did what you thought you needed to do," Carissa said, shrugging. Then, her brow furrowed in a frown as she gently but disapprovingly added, "But you still hurt poor James by doing what you thought was best. You gave him false hope."  
  
"Would you rather have had Will die?"  
  
"No!" Carissa exclaimed sincerely. "But there are things that you don't know. There are things that you didn't see."   
  
"What?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
  
"Carissa, for God's sake, tell me. You're giving me a headache."  
  
Just as Carissa was about to tell her, they heard someone climbing up the trellis to Elizabeth's balcony. Elizabeth motioned for Carissa to hide behind the dressing partition in the corner of her room. She mouthed the words, 'Don't disappear,' before she turned towards the balcony.  
  
"Elizabeth!" hissed Will from just below her window. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."  
  
She just glared at him.  
  
"May I please come in?"  
  
"Of course," Elizabeth answered, pouting, crossing her arms and sternly raising an eyebrow at him.  
  
'Oh please,' Carissa thought. 'James never should have proposed to her at this age. She needs to grow up. The only reason she fancies herself in love with Will is because he's been feeding her ego for years.'  
  
"I never should have laughed at your feeling of foreboding this afternoon," he told her as he paced around her room.  
  
"Why, has something happened?" Elizabeth asked, as her eyes drifted to Norrington's note lying on her bed.  
  
Carissa tensed. They couldn't have found that James was missing yet. At this point, he would have only been gone for a few hours.  
  
"No, but it was horrible of me to laugh at you. It's just that you're so impulsive... sometimes it's hard to take you seriously."  
  
Carissa rolled her eyes.   
  
"I accept your apology, Will," Elizabeth said distractedly. It was now starting to sink in that she had to let her father know of the commodore's so-called illness.  
  
Will stepped in behind her. "Don't worry so much. You don't have to go looking for trouble. Barbossa is gone, and your father gave us his blessing. All that's left to you are the wedding plans. You're a woman. You like messing about with those things, don't you?"  
  
'Stupid, stupid boy,' Carissa thought. Then, she thought about the change in the times. It wouldn't occur to Lizzie to be offended. But, as the thought hit, Carissa noticed that Elizabeth's eyebrow was raised in annoyance. Though, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.  
  
"No, I'm just worried about the commodore. He's been taken ill," Elizabeth said. "He bade me give my father this note."  
  
"You saw the commodore this evening?" Will asked. "You saw him at his home, alone?"  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth answered, preparing herself to make up some story about how she knew she hadn't contracted the imaginary illness.  
  
"How could you?" Will nearly shouted. "You are engaged to me!"  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth asked. "And how did you know I went there alone?"  
  
Carissa was beside herself. Had this been James, he would not have acted with this degree of jealousy.  
  
"I was with your father the whole afternoon," Will answered. "I don't understand you Elizabeth. It seems like you spend more and more time with the commodore since he released you from your disastrous engagement. Am I not good enough?"  
  
"The commodore is a good man who has always endeavored to show me kindness," Elizabeth said. "When I was a little girl, on the voyage from England, he tried to entertain me. He was very kind and generous to us, of late. The least I can give him is my friendship. The commodore is a good man."  
  
"I should be getting back," Will said coldly, as he climbed out of the window. Then, he paused, reached up to touch Elizabeth's cheek, and said, "I'll see you in the morrow."  
  
As he descended, Carissa emerged from behind the partition. She was shaking her head.  
  
"That doesn't sound like the Will I used to hear and see running about when I was younger."  
  
"Forgive him," Elizabeth said. "He's been bored since the Black Pearl left. He's trying to fight the desire to roam."  
  
"You don't have to defend your boyfriend to me," Carissa said. "What I think doesn't matter here—obviously."  
  
Elizabeth's brows raised in anger and confusion. She wanted to throttle the other girl. She had been right beside her the day that she found out that one of her dreams didn't exist. How could Carissa fault her for moving on?  
  
"You're being unfair," she said, trying to control her emotions. "You were with me when we saw him, and you're taking his side. He gets to spend years with you. You tell him things. He knows things, and here I am, once again, in the dark."  
  
"You want to know what I was going to say," Carissa shot back, angrily. "Fine. You didn't have to get James's hopes up to later break his heart because he was already set to go back and save Will."  
  
She grabbed the older woman's hand.  
  
"I'll show you," she added. "Though, it will probably be a waste because you didn't see it the first time in your selfish desperation."  
  
With that, there was a sharp crack and in less than the time it took either woman to blink an eye, they were once again in another place and time. Elizabeth panicked because she still felt like she was falling, but then she felt herself land on something soft.  
  
"We're sitting in the folds of the sails," Carissa hissed. "The you from about a month ago is about to pick an argument with your father. Keep you eyes on James."  
  
Elizabeth listened as her own voice drifted up from just below her feet. She peered over the sail's edge to watch the scene unfold.  
  
"Then we condemn him to death."  
  
Elizabeth watched James as he raised his eyes to the Elizabeth that was speaking. He looked as if he was about to say something, but his eyes half-drifted towards her father.  
  
"The boy's fate is regrettable," she heard her father say again. But she continued to watch James as he looked very much like he was struggling to bite his tongue. Her father continued. "But so was his decision to engage in piracy."  
  
James's eyes were going crazy. He was looking at the governor with confusion and disapproval.   
  
She turned to Carissa and asked, "Why didn't he say anything?"  
  
"Quiet," she said. "No one is supposed to hear us."  
  
"By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow," James voice once again drifted upwards. "Not only myself."  
  
"Commodore, I beg you," the Elizabeth on deck was saying. "Please do this. For me… as a wedding gift."  
  
As Carissa watched the scene for a third time, she nodded to her younger selves who were watching the scene from beneath the stairs and from the lookout.  
  
"This really was one of your more horrible moments, Lizzie," Carissa said. "But I think it's time to go. You already know what happens next."  
  
"I'm about to tell him that his answer wouldn't have changed mine," she said as she linked her pinky with Carissa's.  
  
In an instant, they were back in Elizabeth's room.   
  
"I meant what I said," Elizabeth continued. "It was his choice to release me from my promise."  
  
"If you did mean it, then why are you now engaged to Mr. Turner?"  
  
"Because Will would never leave me," came her answer. "He needs me… And he's never lied to me. He's never said one thing and then turned around to do another."  
  
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AN: Reactions! That's bloody wonderful.  
  
Lilo-- I did know that Peter Pan, as he is now, belongs to the late 19th century. (I don't say 20th because I don't believe that 20th Century lit came into being until the '30s or so.) However, I'm not really being anachronistic... Peter Pan, as unlikely as he is to do so, will be used to create conflict. I'm rather hoping that you won't blast me for using Nabakov and Margaret Mitchell later.  
  
Aims-- A dashing Jack Davenport would make anyone smile. A pity that I don't own him and can't fit him in my pocket.  
  
Up next- Norrington in the contemporary world, flashbacks, and an explanation. 


	4. Chapter 3: Stay

Summary: Commodore Norrington must remember his past and a little girl in order to save a member of his family. Elizabeth must remember old feelings to save the man she loves. Bootstrap must find Will before it's too late.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
AN: I promise that Bootstrap and Will are going to come up in the future... that wasn't just false advertising.  
  
Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. I'm borrowing Nabakov and his Lolita for a moment or two here and there. And if you get the other references I make, you probably know who they actually belong to... Everything else is mine.  
  
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Chapter 3: Stay  
  
James was watching the young Carissa sleep. He'd spent six months with the child. He was only beginning to understand things. Her father, Henry, had left behind pages and pages explaining the situation, but James didn't have the vocabulary to understand the extraordinary details.  
  
"My wife and I can't escape death," Henry had told him. "I've had to watch my wife and I die many times trying to change it, but I can't. Please take care of my little girl."  
  
"I don't know what to say," James answered.  
  
"You know who we are to you," Henry had said. "I'm part of your bloodline. We are the children of your children. And I know you love Carissa as much as I do. You have to save her."  
  
That conversation confused him. The only thing he understood was that the girl sleeping before him was part of him… and now that her parents were dead, he was all that she had left. James still wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to save this little girl from, but he knew that he had to stay with her until she was ready to take him back. And he had to help the girl find Henry's brother, Liam, who was lost in time… And he also had to remember something…  
  
Too many things to keep track of, but he could never leave this child to cope with her loss and this trauma alone.  
  
"No, it's not what Lizzie thinks!" Carissa was saying in her sleep. "Daddy, you told me…"  
  
James smoothed the girl's sweat-matted hair from her forehead, and she woke with a start. Her eyes stared up at him, expecting an explanation. But, her face fell as soon as she realized that she wasn't looking at her father anymore. Finding that it was only James, her lips trembled.  
  
"What's not what Lizzie thinks, little sprite?"  
  
"You didn't do it. You didn't do it," Carissa chanted dogmatically. "Not the way she thinks you did."  
  
"Little sprite," he said in as calming a voice as he could muster. "What is the matter?"  
  
"You didn't do it. You didn't do it. YOU DIDN'T DO IT."  
  
James was frightened. Carissa was staring right through him and her chant was gradually turning into a near scream. It didn't seem like she could see him anymore. He grabbed one of her hands and held on as tightly as he could. She couldn't disappear now. He didn't know if she could find her way back in this state. If she got lost like this, it wasn't likely that she would survive. He'd seen her as a young woman, but that might change. He didn't know what he was doing… She'd disappeared once since her parents had died, and it gave him a fright that he thought would nearly kill him. She had only been gone for a moment, but when she reappeared, she was pale and had been mute for an afternoon. He knew that he couldn't let her be alone. Suddenly, her words hit.  
  
"I didn't do what, Carissa?"  
  
"Betray her."  
  
What could the little girl possibly be on about? Concern radiated from his eyes. He wondered what her nightmare could possibly have been about to make her panic and doggedly chant that he wouldn't hurt… Lizzie.  
  
There was a noise that came from the kitchen, and he turned around.   
  
A much older Carissa—looking to be in her mid-twenties—walked towards her younger self, who was shivering with fright. She sat beside the younger girl and smoothed back her hair.  
  
"Honey, it's okay now. Just go back to sleep."  
  
His mind was spinning. A million questions were running through his mind and the woman that sat beside him was the only person who could answer them. The child wasn't making any sense, but something nagging at the back of his mind told him that her troubles had something to do with an unfortunate and tragic incident that happened in his recent past.  
  
"James, don't panic," Carissa said. "Please try to stay calm right now. Something is about to happen. I need you to follow my lead."  
  
Suddenly, there was a horrible banging at the door of the small apartment. "What's going on in there? We got a call about a screaming child."  
  
The older Carissa quickly and calmly opened the door to the building's security officer.  
  
"Hello, officer," she said pleasantly. "What can we do for you?"  
  
The officer was obviously taken aback. He'd only ever seen the man and the child. He was told that the man was the child's uncle, but there was something weird about the way that the child looked at him. There was an adoration that bordered on sycophancy. And the manner of this man was very strange. He was too polite… too formal. He seemed to be too devoted to this child. And he was single. There was something amiss about the man. But this woman was different. She was pleasant, and stunning. There was an obvious resemblance to the child…  
  
"People heard the little girl screaming," the officer said, embarrassed. "I thought…"  
  
James was confused. The man standing before Carissa had, more than once, looked at him with suspicion and disgust. He couldn't imagine why…  
  
"She just had a nightmare, officer. Nothing to worry about," Carissa told the officer with a sight. She started to continue, but her voice caught in her throat. "Her parents have just died." She paused. "Forgive me. I don't think I've ever introduced myself. I'm the child's aunt—the lady of the house."  
  
James saw that the security officer was obviously enchanted by this older Carissa. The man was positively fidgeting under her smiling gaze. James was almost embarrassed for the man. Not that he blamed the man for bending his resolve under the feminine wiles of his brilliant daughter-of-sorts. As the thought hit, his eyes widened because he'd only just then realized what Carissa was going to say next.  
  
"My husband was good enough to get the place feeling homey while I was away on business," she said while grabbing his hand.  
  
She gave James a little squeeze as if to say, 'Don't worry.'  
  
The officer's attention once again turned to James. Though it was somewhat diffused from the initial moment of eye-contact, the look of suspicion was still there. And his eyes moved to the child, who was now clinging to James's leg desperately. Was it natural for a child of ten to be so attached to her uncle?  
  
"Mrs…?"  
  
"Davenport," Carissa answered.  
  
"Mrs. Davenport, you have to understand my position," he told her in hushed tones. "I'm not sure if you're aware what it looks like. A little girl with a single man that isn't her father… And this is the third time this week the neighbors have heard her screaming."  
  
James watched as her eyes darted sharply to the name stitched on the man's uniform.  
  
"Officer Briggs, my niece just lost her parents. She had to watch them die. Do you think that's easy for her to deal with?" she spoke with a deadly tone in her voice. "My husband and I are all that she has left in this world. How dare you imply that my husband has been anything but loving and supportive."  
  
"I didn't mean," the officer said, unconsciously backing away from the older Carissa, "to add to your pain. But the screams…"  
  
"Do you know how her parent's died? Let me tell you…"   
  
Her voice lowered considerably so that James could barely hear her. Still holding her hand, he gave it a little squeeze. Then, he smoothed the younger Carissa's hair. The little sprite suffered too much… and now she had these nightmares… nightmares about him and Elizabeth. He tensed.  
  
"And she saw it happen," the older Carissa continued. The she turned towards James. "Can you put her back to bed please, darling?"  
  
James carried the little girl to the bed. She was now looking at him as thought he might disappear, and she was clutching his arms so tightly that it was starting to hurt.   
  
"Don't leave me."  
  
He gave her a small, reassuring smile despite the fear that was building in the pit of his stomach. He softly shushed her until she relaxed her grip on his arms just a bit. Then he looked towards the hallway, hoping that the older version of the girl would rid the place of the guard soon so that she could explain to him what exactly was going on.  
  
As Carissa shut the door, she took a moment to drink in the world of her past. The huge bay windows of the apartment were still looking out onto the San Francisco Bay, and she smiled softly as she caught sight of the Golden Gate Bridge which seemed to be bathed in light that night. She had come home to a place and time that defined her life. She let a small, but genuine giggle escape from her lips as she realized that for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was home.  
  
  
  
James tentatively walked down the hallway, and heard the older Carissa's soft laughter. Then, he heard her murmur, "I'm home." As he entered the living room of the rather large apartment, he caught sight of her. And for the first time in ages, she was wearing a genuine smile.  
  
"The moon has come and gone twice since I last saw you wear a genuine smile," he said. "Even when you come to us from elsewhen, your smiles have felt less sincere… forced."  
  
"It's not the company, James," she said, walking over to him. "I hope you know that."  
  
She rested a hand on his arm—the same spot on his arm that still hurt from the desperate clutching of her younger self. He tensed, and she felt it. Her eyes darted to his forearms.  
  
"I did that?"  
  
"Yes," James answered. "I need you to tell me why."  
  
"Because I was afraid that you'd leave me or that the officer would take you away. I didn't want you to leave me alone. The nightmares, as you called them, came from a memory that I didn't understand…"  
  
James raised his arm to interrupt her. "What cause would the officer have to arrest me? He's harbored a suspicious manner around me since we arrived. What am I getting wrong? I've done everything exactly as you told me the last time you appeared."  
  
"James," Carissa started gently. "What you still have to understand about this place is that both social and moral improprieties aren't spoken of in hushed tones anymore. Indelicacies are quite the norm and open fodder for gossip. You have the appearance of an unmarried man with a child that is not your own. The neighbors hear the child screaming on quite a regular basis. They think you…"  
  
She met his eyes, praying that he would understand what she was saying. But he did not.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How can I put this delicately?" she said, then paused. "They think that, whenever they hear the series of screams… James, they suspect you of ravishing a little girl's body."  
  
His legs went dull. Even in his line of work, such things had never been so bluntly spoken of. The thought of a man his age with a child that had not yet grown into womanhood filled him with a sick rage. But that others thought that he would…  
  
"James," Carissa said, trying to bring him out of his sickened daze. "They find and expose men like this often here. But it happens in your place and time as well. It's just that no one talks about it."  
  
"They suspect it of me?" he asked weakly.  
  
"Only the officer," Carissa answered. "It happened to his sister, according to him. But his suspicion might have been enough to separate you from me… it is why I'm here."  
  
James's head was spinning. He'd made a promise to his own flesh and blood that he would never go back on. The sick suspicions of a traumatized man would not make him break that oath.  
  
"And your nightmares, what of those?" he asked. "You said that they are memories. What do you see in them that induce you to scream of my innocence?"  
  
"It was the night that you helped those women," Carissa said. "The women who'd lost their husbands to jaundice… and the slave woman."  
  
"You'd been there when I'd caught the slave ship master trying to force these women to sell…" he paused, then continued tentatively, "their company?"  
  
"Yes," Carissa said. "Elizabeth and I were there. It was the night that I watched Lizzie forget her infatuation… her love for you."  
  
"That was a tragic night," James said, shaking his head. "But I do not understand why it would leave you screaming at night and plant the seeds of bitter dislike within the heart of the fair Elizabeth."  
  
"If you think back, James that was the first time that you raised Lizzie's hand to your lips at her father's house. She was enthralled and followed you down to the docks, and I tagged along after her. You got away from us, and it took us ages to find you again. And we did… or we thought that we did."  
  
"Carissa," he said softly, but firmly. "What did you see in those nightmares?"  
  
"I can't tell you what I saw," she told him. "You still wouldn't understand. I have to show you… and my younger self, too."  
  
_________________________  
  
AN: I promise that no misguided attempt to turn Commodore Norrington into the barrister that represented the slaves on the Amistad will be made.  
  
Look for a simultaneous moment of time-travel in the next chapter: (4) Carissas, (2) James Norringtons, and (2) Elizabeth Swanns... and another unseen time-traveling canonical character. 


	5. Chapter 4: Another Chance, Another Walk,...

Summary: Got tired of copying it... It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, and a doting father-daughter bond.  
  
Warning: References to attempted sexual violence in dialogue, but the scenes are pretty chaste.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
AN: I had to cut this chapter in half because it was getting too long. This chapter doesn't have much explanation of "the horror" of the past, but I think it still does an effective job setting up the moment of betrayal. The unseen time-travelling canonical character will have to wait until the next upload. I still promise that Bootstrap and Will are going to come up in the future... that wasn't just false advertising.  
  
Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. I lied. I wasn't using Nabakov and Lolita... it was Father Ralph and Meggie from "The Thornbirds." Scenes flavored with that narrative are henceforth credited to Colleen McCullough. And if you get the other references I make, you probably know who they actually belong to... Everything else is mine.  
  
*****************************************  
  
Chapter 4: Another Chance, Another Walk, Another Dance  
  
Elizabeth Swann wanted to strangle her old magical friend. She'd expected no less than agreement and sympathy from Carissa. She had, after all, been there that night. She could not fault her for choosing to give her heart to Will Turner. They had both witnessed it. But, Carissa only stood there in self-righteous silence.  
  
"Say something," Elizabeth ordered.  
  
"I will see you in the morning, Lizzie," Carissa said, woefully.  
  
With that, Carissa closed her eyes, disappeared and left Elizabeth to her sanctimonious suffering. She'd taken her old friend on three trips to help her understand and remember, but the 17th century girl was as stubborn as an overpriced mule. She needed to rid herself of the negativity. That was all she could do…  
  
But the voices of James and her father resounded in her head.   
  
"Do not accept any challenges you cannot commit to answering."  
  
She reappeared in the empty San Francisco apartment. She missed her father and his cryptic speeches. She missed the way he would run his sentences together, not bothering to let any pauses color his speech with much emotion. He'd do that all the time… especially when he was explaining things about the past, the future, or destiny. He would use his words to blur together verbal signs of his affection with important warnings, and his explanation of why things were the way they were.   
  
She missed the way he would say, "You can't change continuity, because it's physically, temporally, and spiritually impossible. Things that are supposed to happen will, in fact, happen. Your abilities don't change that. The fact is, little sprite, if you're anywhere in time, it's because you are supposed to be. I love you."  
  
That was so like him… A complicated explanation and a declaration of fatherly love spoken in the same breath. James was different. His speech had more pacing. Oddly, the logical progression of his speech was very like her father's but he knew exactly when to pause to let his words sink in. It was like he knew how to spend his words. Perhaps it was because he was a commodore.  
  
Life didn't seem fair. She still needed a father in her life, and here she was at sixteen years of age sitting in the middle of an apartment that she lived in alone. She learned that she could do without a mother, and whenever she really needed a woman's motherly advice, she would travel back to her mother for a short chat. It didn't work the same way with her father… or James. For some reason, she needed one or the other to be near her quite frequently—didn't feel complete otherwise.  
  
She let out a wistful sigh as her mind took her back to one of her early excursions into James and Lizzie's world.   
  
*** She had been eight years old, and had popped in on James while he stood alone on one of the high walls of the fort. He had been stewing in silent anger and grief, looking out onto the ocean. The sight both scared her and made her sad.  
  
"James," her eight year old self had said in an almost-whisper. "Why are you so sad?"  
  
He turned, startled. Carissa was almost afraid that he would fall over the wall and into the ocean. He, in turn, had seen the fear in her eyes and gave her a small, but reassuring smile.   
  
"Good evening, little sprite," he said. "I was remembering my brother. It's his birthday."  
  
Carissa's eyes widened. This was something she knew about. Her father had told her all about James's brother. And he was famous—or his story was, anyways. But they changed it a little.  
  
"Peter!" she said, smiling excitedly. Then, she remembered that James was sad and her face fell.  
  
James was taken aback. How did she know—? But then, the child was magical… and apparently didn't know what she was feeling. He watched as her face fell from a buoyant grin to a look of contrition. He wanted to laugh, but valiantly fought the urge down, trying his best to keep the reassuring smile on his face.   
  
"I know what it's like to miss someone," she'd said, sounding as small as she looked contrite. "I miss my uncle Liam. My daddy says that he got lost at sea."  
  
The young lieutenant's eyes flashed with sympathy. He had quite a lot in common with this little sprite. It occurred to him that he'd like to have a daughter like her.  
  
"When that sort of sadness sails into port, I find it useful to go for a walk along the docks," he told her. ***  
  
"The docks…" the fifteen year old Carissa said to herself in her own present world. And she walked out the door.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
(Port Royal during the colonial era.)  
  
Commodore James Norrington was sitting at his desk going over customs reports. His eyes started to glaze over, and his thoughts drifted to his once and future great-granddaughter. He smiled. She was, indeed, real and most assuredly borne of his flesh and blood. The new small bundle in his home was evidence enough…  
  
Pop.  
  
The soft noise seemed to come from directly in front of him, and he raised his eyes from the papers on his desk. There she was—the not-so-little sprite. He couldn't have been happier to see her. But then, she looked as though she had been crying. He examined her, closely. She was only a few more years older than she was when she'd taken him back to his own place and time.  
  
"Carissa," James said. "Are you all right?"  
  
"James. Would you pulverize someone for me?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want to hurt someone and I'm too small to do it… I don't know how to fight…" she was interrupted by a pained hiccup. Then, she continued, "Would you do this for me—as a father?"  
  
James watched as tears started to well up in her eyes. He'd never seen his little sprite this vengeful before. His eyes widened.  
  
"What are you speaking of? Who? And Why?"  
  
"There was this man…"  
  
The breath caught in James's chest. It occurred to him that he might have heard this story before, from an older version of the sprite. An overeager suitor or something as such… He wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't very well pulverize the young man for eagerly wanting to spend time with this beautiful, young daughter of his blood.  
  
"An eager suitor, am I right?"  
  
"I suppose you could call him that," she answered, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"Carissa, I can't eviscerate every one of your undesirable suitors, as much as I might like to… The populations of San Francisco and Los Angeles would dwindle terribly—just ask your future self."  
  
The tears that had built up in her eyes fell to her cheeks, and the sight nearly killed James.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I was missing you and daddy. So I went for a walk on Fisherman's Warf, and this man started to follow me, asking my name and generally trying to pick me up. I tried to be nice to him and told him that I already had a boyfriend. Then, he said that if that were true, I wouldn't be walking around so late at night. I was afraid, so I let him buy me a drink if only he'd take me home straight away. I tried to sneak away so I could go home myself, but he followed me…"  
  
James's fists balled up tightly as he watched more tears stream down his little sprite's face.  
  
"I reminded him that he'd promised to take me home, but he was really mad. He shoved me into his car and wouldn't take me home. I wasn't sure where he was going to take me… And suddenly we were driving down this dirt road, and there was this little shack..."  
  
"Carissa, did he…" James couldn't hide the fear in his eyes and he could hardly get the sentence out. "Did he… ravage you… de-despoil you?"  
  
"He… He said I wasn't good enough… He…"  
  
James waited. She looked so ashamed with her tears flowing quite freely. She tentatively peeled off her shirt to bare burn scars, ugly bruises and what looked like light whip marks. The rage within James was immense. She was his child… He was going to kill the man… cripple him… maim him… emasculate him.  
  
"He scared me so badly that I had a hard time making myself disappear… I…"  
  
He grasped Carissa's hands. In a deadly voice he said, "Take me to him."  
  
"I want to watch. I want to see him cower in fear. And I want to know the meaning of shame..."  
  
With that, they disappeared into Carissa's world, where she got her wish. James made a quick and efficient work of teaching the man the meaning pain, but he left the work of humiliation to Carissa—who, in the end, left the man petrified and tied to a tree in such a way that if he attempted to move, he would be dismembered in the worst way a man possibly could be.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
When she returned James to his office, she was much calmer than when she had appeared. He gave her a pensive gaze, trying to ascertain whether or not she was in any state to go back to her home alone. He was surprised to find her looking back at him in astonishment.  
  
"How could she ever have questioned your sense of honor?"  
  
.  
  
** ** ** Counterpoint  
  
~~~Carissa is 16, Elizabeth is 20~~~  
  
Carissa felt as if she was melting under the Caribbean sun. She was buried beneath layers of fabric. The bodice of her dress was killing her, pressing down on the scars and bruises she had acquired two days before. Fashion, she decided, was meant to add to misogyny. But then she caught sight of Lieutenant Gillette as he passed her on the road. The man was wearing a ridiculously heavy overcoat, stockings, and a wig. The poor man. No wonder he always looked like he was constipated.  
  
What possessed her to travel into the daylight and walk among the people, she didn't know. And Elizabeth was proving to be a hard person to track down. Carissa was not happy. Her resentment towards Elizabeth had grown monumentally since their last meeting.   
  
Elizabeth was walking with her father towards the fort. She was still bristling from the previous night and the lack of friendly support she received from Carissa. How could the girl side with James after all that had happened? Elizabeth grimaced as she remembered the traumatized expression that appeared on the ten-year-old Carissa's face as the young girl found her heroic father figure in the midst of… Elizabeth shuddered. She preferred to put the scene out of her mind and concentrate on the task at hand— attempting to smile at the snotty Lieutenant Gillette.  
  
"Tell your father that I share his opinions on maritime history," Gillette was saying to a young woman. "Forgive my boldness, but I am charmed beyond words, Miss Davenport."  
  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. It was completely obvious to all those around him that he was completely besotted with this Miss Davenport. One would think that a lieutenant in the King's Navy would be a little more guarded with his emotions… Her eyes widened in shock, as his words registered. She looked tentatively over to the woman. It certainly was Miss Davenport—Miss Carissa Davenport.  
  
"Good morning, Miss Swann," Carissa said, nodding towards Elizabeth. "It's good to see you again."  
  
"Carissa, you know very well that you can dispense with the formality," Elizabeth said, still shocked to see the young woman functioning as a member of her world. Not knowing what else to say, she added, "You're here to see the Commodore, I assume."  
  
"I've been told he's fallen ill," Carissa said, almost smirking. "I am quite disappointed, but if you do not have any pressing matters to attend to, I should like to speak with you."  
  
Governor Swann waved Elizabeth leave to consort with her friend.  
  
"We have unfinished business, Lizzie," Carissa said coldly when they were away from the Governor and Gillette. "It's time you knew what really happened that night."  
  
.  
  
~~~James is 29, Carissa is 25 and 10~~~  
  
"I told James last night," Old Carissa told Young Carissa. "That we followed him to the docks after Lizzie's birthday ball. We're going to go back to that night—all three of us. Do you understand?"  
  
Young Carissa nodded, looking very much afraid. James watched as she started trembling.  
  
"Carissa," Old Carissa said gently but firmly, "I need you to be brave. As long as you're brave, everything will be all right." She turned to James. "We'll be watching from a docked ship, James. And you'll see everything… including something that you'll want to change. But you can't—and I can't have you jumping into the water and alerting all to our presence."  
  
"Understood," James said, grabbing the hands of his once and future great-granddaughters.  
  
.  
  
~~~Elizabeth is 16, Carissa is 10~~~  
  
Carissa materialized on Elizabeth's balcony, very confused as to why she was there. This wasn't what she had been expecting.  
  
"Carissa!" Elizabeth exclaimed with glee. She was dressed for a party. "You're just in time!"   
  
Elizabeth rummaged through her wardrobe and plucked out a small dress and threw it at Carissa.  
  
"In time for what, Lizzie?" Carissa asked, still dazed.  
  
"My birthday ball," Elizabeth answered.  
  
"I'm not supposed to be here," Carissa said, starting to panic. "This isn't where I was supposed to come."  
  
"Where were you supposed to go?"  
  
"To my daddy. I was missing him, and I concentrated really hard, but I'm here instead."  
  
"Stay a little while," Elizabeth said buoyantly. "Captain Norrington will be disappointed if you don't."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Carissa was swimming in the fabric of a dress that was too big for her. There was a crowd of people, and no one seemed to notice that she was there. Her eyes searched for James… She traveled to the wrong daddy… she traveled to her great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaddy. It was a waste. She left James only to find that she had traveled to James.  
  
"Well hello little sprite," James said to Carissa. "I didn't know that you had been invited to the ball."  
  
"Lizzie told me to come."  
  
"It's Miss Elizabeth when other people are around, little sprite," James chided gently. "Her father begs that all around her comport themselves with the utmost propriety and decorum. He'd be severely scandalized if her heard anyone here calling her Lizzie.'  
  
"Did I hear my name?"  
  
"I was just informing the little sprite that I have not yet been graced with a dance from the guest of honor," James said, flashing Elizabeth a heart stopping smile.  
  
Speechlessly happy, she extended her hand towards the captain. He looked exceedingly striking without his uniform—more human, closer in years to her. His uniform, despite its impressive brocade work, could not have suited him half so well as the severely cut black robe he wore that night. The flaring lines of his black waistcoat and the innumerable little black cloth buttons up his front from hem to collar, trimmed in a burgundy lining made him look so dark, mysterious and dashing.  
  
Up until this moment, James did not speak directly to Elizabeth. He had only bowed in her direction upon his arrival. He didn't speak a word to her during dinner, nor did he afterward. He seemed to systematically ignore her. He was very aware of her hurt gaze throughout the night. Earlier, he had wanted to stop by her chair and explain that it would not do her, nor his, reputation any good if he—the young, upstart, ambitious captain as he was generally known throughout the general acquaintance of all in attendance of the banquet hall—if he paid her more attention than he did any other young lady in attendance. They spent too much time together unsupervised as it was—and she wasn't a child anymore.  
  
Part of him hated her appearance that night. He didn't want to notice how beautiful she had grown… and she had, indeed, grown very beautiful. She wore a dress with a low, draped neckline and a fabric that reminded him of opaque rose petals. She was growing taller and developing a very feminine figure. The other half of him was immeasurably proud that she outshone every other young woman in attendance. No doubt, all the young men in attendance would notice.   
  
As the thoughts swam through his mind, he realized that they were no longer on the dance floor but alone on the veranda. For some strange reason, he was holding her. He could feel her bosom low down on his chest, applying a slight pressure—causing an odd sensation… a disturbing sensation. Even more disturbing to him was the feeling of inevitability, and the element of the natural that asserted itself in the moment.  
  
Quickly regaining his senses, he stepped back from her abruptly. If her father—nay, any busybody—were to find them like this, it would be his hide… captain or no. He possessed neither the position nor permission to be this closely engaged with the young woman. Her father would vilify him for plucking a flower barely out of the bud. His general acquaintance would look upon this moment as an undeserving bid for social and political promotion… a grown man using a child to achieve his own selfish ends.  
  
"Captain," said the voice of midshipman Groves, "The messenger you bid me watch for, has arrived."  
  
So James was to be granted a reprieve. He prayed that Miss Elizabeth Swann had not noticed the state of his mind… and body.  
  
"Forgive me, Miss Swann," James said, bowing toward the stunned young woman. "I must take my leave as this is a matter of great urgency."  
  
He walked into the ballroom towards the little sprite Carissa. As he bent down to bid the little girl good night, he was struck by a thought of immense guilt. It was now painfully clear to him that since the beginning of his acquaintance to these girls, he had harbored two different feelings towards each of them. For Elizabeth, he harbored all the affection of a friend despite the difference in their ages. Towards Carissa, it had been a familial, almost father-like doting. He nearly stumbled over himself as he hurried out of the ballroom.  
  
After changing into his uniform, James emerged from the guards' quarters onto the grounds to find Elizabeth in the gazebo looking wistfully towards the ocean. In his concern, he forgot the tenets of decorum and approached the girl.  
  
"What's the matter, Lizzie?"   
  
"No one seemed to want to want my company. My father is attending to state business," she answered. Then, she took a pause, appearing to debate with herself whether to continue to speak. "And you hardly spoke a word to me tonight."  
  
"Elizabeth," James said, dispensing with the childish nickname and the formality for the first time. It felt nice to say. "Elizabeth, you're growing older and I can no longer pay you the same amount of attention as I did when you were younger. You understand the reason, do you not?"  
  
Elizabeth stared blankly at the captain.  
  
"It is well known that I come to the mansion more often than I need. It is also widely known that you spend quite a bit of time entertaining me alone as I wait on the political mentorship from your father. If I had paid you a modicum more attention than I did... Lizzie, you haven't yet learned to hide the affection you grew accustomed to paying me in your childhood... Your reputation would have been thrown into sharp duress. The state of things between you and I would have been misconstrued."  
  
She was looking up at him oddly… almost with a wild-eyed curiousity. Then, with the suddenness of lightning, her gaze was tempered with something he couldn't quite identify.  
  
"Yes, I understand now."  
  
"It's time you were getting back to the house. Your guests will be missing you."  
  
He bowed to take his leave of her. Then, possessed by some ill-advised impulse, he took hold of her hand and raised it to his lips.  
  
"I have pressing business to attend to at the docks. But I wish you the very happiest of birthdays, Miss Swann," James said. "As a friend of my father's once wrote, 'Had we but world enough and time…'"  
  
_____________________________  
  
Previews: The betrayal scene is quite graphic. But, as I think I've set up sufficiently that the betrayal is actually a misunderstanding, I hope you'll acquit me of cruelty towards James Norrington.   
  
Araeph: Yes, this is a reference to Andrew Marvell's poem... and a reference to Audrey Niffenegger's book "Time Traveller's Wife." (It's a good read.) Like I said in my earlier note, I really was planning on a monumental reveal in this chapter, but it got too long due to necessary setup.  
  
Carlses: Truthfully, I normally don't like the character Elizabeth much either (mostly because I don't like Keira Knightly). But this Elizabeth was based on the one at the beginning of the movie, where the young actress Lucinda Dryzek looks a little like she's staring up at Jack Davenport with wide-eyed admiration and curiousity.  
  
On the point of confusion: I tried to make things a bit less confusing when I started the plot counterpoint in this chapter by labling the segments with their ages... I'd very much like to know whether you guys find this helpful, so feedback is HIGHLY encouraged. 


	6. Chapter 5: Fallen

Summary: Got tired of copying it... It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, and a doting father-daughter bond.  
  
Warning: I think I lived up to my R rating in this chapter. References to Sadism and sexual violence are here, but I don't think that there's anything too explicit as I had to tell some of it through a child's eyes.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
Disclaimer: Same as last time.  
  
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Chapter 5: Fallen  
  
The young Carissa trotted out towards the Gazebo, seeing James and Lizzie frozen in their intimate scene. Drawn to it like a moth to a flame, her feet seemed to move on their own. They reminded her of her daddy and mommy. Was this what Old Carissa meant when she told her that she'd see her parents again?  
  
Unbeknownst to the young girl, she had an audience.  
  
~~James is 29, Carissa is 25 and 10~~  
  
"No. I don't want to be here," Young Carissa was whimpering to her older self from the branches of a rather large tree. "Please let me go home."  
  
"Honey," Old Carissa said, in a soothing voice, "I need for you to understand what happened. It's really important that you remember what really happened."  
  
"I thought you said we were going to be on a ship," James whispered as he shifted uncomfortably on his branch. "We know what happens here. I do not see how reliving this particularly bittersweet memory of mine will help me understand the child's state of distress."  
  
"No, but it will help you understand Lizzie's state of mind," Old Carissa said sharply. "Look at her James. She is absolutely besotted. You can't tell me that you didn't see it in the moment."  
  
James reluctantly let his eyes drift back over to his past. 'World enough and time…' he thought.  
  
"It's a beautiful tableau," he said, his resigned pain making its mark on his voice.  
  
"It was the grotesque that changed her feelings," Carissa said cryptically. She settled her hands on those of James and Young Carissa. "Come, it's time we were on deck."  
  
~~Carissa is 10, Elizabeth is 16~~  
  
Carissa and Elizabeth watched as a man, bathed in shadow, led James into a bungalow through a back door. Elizabeth, not expecting to find herself as witness to a scene of intrigue, paced undecidedly before she grabbed Carissa and ducked behind a tall stack of boxes.  
  
"How can I ever repay you for this Mr…" the girls heard James' voice falter.  
  
"Call me Daven," the man answered. "Just remember me and this kindness when they appoint you Commodore. There might come a time when I must ask you to do something for my son."  
  
"It will be a great many years before I get another promotion," James said modestly. "But if that's all you require of me, than I give you my word."  
  
The girls watched as the fully uniformed James moved soundlessly into the bungalow. Moments later, they saw a slave girl running out of the bungalow towards the man who'd just identified himself as Daven. He pointed her in the direction of a thick growth that wasn't much more than few yards off. The girl ran as if the devil himself was at her heels.  
  
Three more women came running out of the bungalow, and the man pointed them in the direction of members of the Royal Navy who were approaching… It was Midshipman Groves with Lieutenants Smith and Gillette. The women looked frantic and dazed.  
  
"There's one more," one of them said, breathlessly.   
  
"I advise you, my dear, not to think about that right now," the man Daven told her sternly. "Get yourselves to those three men, and don't look back."  
  
Elizabeth, not being able to stand the oddity of the situation, ran in the direction of the navy men. Groves and Gillette, who now had charge of the three nameless women, didn't notice as the governor's daughter started running after them. The main concern the two men had were the safety and well-being of the women. Only Smith was aware of her presence. He turned abruptly to address the Elizabeth.  
  
"Miss Swann!" Smith almost hissed. "You shouldn't be here. It's bad enough we have Captain Norrington to worry about, now you."  
  
"What is going on here?" Elizabeth asked helplessly. "Why is James—Captain Norrington here?"  
  
"A fool's errand, Miss Swann," Smith said. "He's here on a fool's errand. Come away with us. You don't want to see what's in there."  
  
Elizabeth made a move to do as the lieutenant said, but then she caught sight of Carissa opening the bungalow door. Panicking, Elizabeth turned around in order to retrieve the little girl. Smith took no notice as he got into a small boat in an attempt to get around to the other side of the docks—the path to which being blocked by more than half-a-dozen thugs and the bungalow.  
  
She stealthily made her way to the bungalow door and slipped inside as Mullroy and Murtogg rounded the corner from patrolling the more obscure, empty end of the docks. Neither of them looked as thought they thought anything was amiss. She doubted they even knew that James was anywhere near them. As the door shut behind her, her eyes started to adjust to the light.  
  
The inside of the bungalow was quite a bit larger than she'd expected. Finding Carissa would not be an easy task. Searching the rooms, she found nothing. She walked clear through the small building before she saw the door that opened to the large platform on the docks. She heard scurrying and heavy running just outside. When she opened the door, she saw nothing on the docks.  
  
Walking the length of the platform, she only saw a few men running along the beach. She couldn't figure out what they were running from. Curious, she looked around every corner of every pile of barrels, crates, and boxes to find absolutely nothing.  
  
There was a huge crash that sounded from inside the bungalow. Elizabeth turned abruptly to find Carissa staring into a half open window in the side of the bungalow. An expression of confusion and fear was written on the little girl's face. Elizabeth peered into the window.  
  
Standing with his back towards the window was a man who appeared to be wearing nothing but a royal blue Navy coat and a white wig. In front of him was a weeping woman who was bent over naked—her backside facing the window. The man was holding the end of what appeared to be the woman's silk stockings with the breadth of the material wrapped around her neck like a noose. In his other hand, he held a heated brand.  
  
"Say it," the man hissed inhumanly. "Or the brand will find its way up…"   
  
His voice was indistinguishable, but judging by the two things that he wore, Elizabeth guessed that this had to be one of the officers. She wanted to say something, but she seemed to be frozen. She also couldn't make herself look away from the disturbing scene.   
  
"Take me, captain," the woman said, through her sobs.  
  
"Say it again…" he continued.  
  
Elizabeth felt faint. It wasn't possible.   
  
"James?" she whispered to herself.  
  
Carissa screamed in unison with the scream that the woman on the other side of the window. The other woman's screams seemed to drown the little girl out because the man did not turn around. Elizabeth did her best to shush the girl and pull her away, but Carissa would not budge.  
  
"Lizzie, that's not him. That's not him. Make James come! Find him! He'll make that man stop!"  
  
"James can't come back for us," Elizabeth said helplessly. She knew that the man wasn't James, but she didn't know what to say to the little girl to make her be quiet. If the man turned around, who knew what would happen to them? "He might not ever be able to come back for us."  
  
Carissa's head was spinning. Lizzie was wrong. James would come to help them. Unless… He must be the one doing those terrible things. That meant that her new daddy was going to kill that woman. He was going to burn her to death naked. The colors in front of her eyes were blurring together and it was getting dark… very dark. She couldn't see anymore. She only heard the woman's screams and Elizabeth's panicked breathing.  
  
"No," Elizabeth whispered to the girl. "Don't faint. I can't carry you."  
  
There was a bang inside the bungalow. Elizabeth dropped to her knees below the window, letting Carissa collapse to the ground. She'd never been so scared in her life.  
  
"Unhand her," Elizabeth heard James say forcefully. "Or you will lose that which you hold most dear."  
  
Elizabeth peered over the window sill. James had his gun pointed at the man's chest and his sword hovering before the man's groin. The man dropped the brand and released the makeshift noose.  
  
"Smith, escort this man directly to his cell and tell the executioner to ready the noose for the morrow," James told the lieutenant. "And tell Gillette to find him some britches."  
  
Smith clapped irons on the man and shoved him out of the room on point of bayonet. Then, he bashfully held out the tattered and trampled dress to the naked woman. Through relieved sobs, she took the garment from him.  
  
Carissa stirred and Elizabeth sighed with relief. She could get them back to the mansion before anyone except Smith even realized that she was missing. And then she would see to it that her father did not give this man a trial.   
  
"I knew you would come for me, James," the woman said when her sobs subsided.  
  
"If I'd been any later…" James said his voice cracking. He was looking at the woman in a way that Elizabeth couldn't identify.  
  
"You came. Don't think on what might have been."  
  
"Abigail, you deserved more from me. The humiliation you had to endure…" His voice was full of emotion.  
  
"James…"  
  
"You, who were so loved... deserve nothing but love and the utmost respect… I was supposed to protect the love… And I allowed you to suffer this huge indignity. Will I ever be forgiven?"  
  
"You did your duty by me," Abigail said.  
  
Elizabeth watched, dumbfounded, as this Abigail walked up to James and placed a tender hand on his shoulder. To her horror, it looked like Abigail was going to raise her face to his. Then, Carissa sat up and peered through the window herself… and saw James. Elizabeth knew that the little girl was going to scream out his name, so she clapped a hand over her mouth. When she looked back to Abigail and James, Abigail was pulling away from James.  
  
Crushed, Elizabeth got to her feet and pulled Carissa away. How could she have been so simple-minded? James didn't want her. He couldn't wait to get away from her and meet this woman of his… this Abigail. They might have been separated by the perversity of that other man, but James—doing what he does best—was able to play the hero.  
  
As she and Carissa entered her room, Elizabeth let the tears fall onto her cheeks. She threw Carissa's strange clothes at her, and said, "He'll never come back now, will he?"  
  
Carissa's eyes widened as she let out a painful moan, and disappeared.  
  
~~James is 29, Carissa is 25 and 10~~  
  
James watched as Elizabeth and Carissa scurried up the hill, hurt by the crushed expression on Elizabeth's face. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, he wanted to rush up to her and explain the true state of things. But he knew that he couldn't. He tried to comfort himself with the new sense of understanding he gained. The scene that Elizabeth witnessed was both traumatic and misleading. She'd had to watch a man attempt a heinous crime and a scene that, out of context, made James himself look like a scoundrel playboy. It was no wonder she turned to the young Turner.  
  
Young Carissa was still looking down at the bungalow almost ready to weep. She couldn't see through the window very clearly. All she knew was that Elizabeth had been upset… and then she saw Lizzie get upset again. She continued to watch as past James and the woman walked out of the bungalow to meet with the man that looked familiar to her, but she never heard his name.   
  
"Thank you James," the woman was saying, sounding like she was both going to laugh and cry at the same time. "And extend my thanks to Smith and Gillette for their role in saving me."  
  
Young Carissa looked up at the James that was standing next to her on the dock of the boat. "So you saved her! I knew you didn't do it!"  
  
Old Carissa was still looking at the storage bungalow. She smiled as she saw her own sixteen-year-old face and Elizabeth's perplexed face peer out of the window. She recalled how she and Elizabeth had hidden under the two desks.  
  
"Abigail, I promised your husband on his deathbed that I would protect you," the James on the docks was saying. He took a deep breath. "Cecil was a good man and a good lieutenant."  
  
"I married him, James. You don't have to tell me that. I know."  
  
"But he had more enemies," said the other man. "Mrs. Adams, I think it best that you cross back to England with the other women. Your husbands freed too many slaves on the technicality of the law. The slave traders don't like losing profits."  
  
"Are you Buddy Daven?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Yes, I am," the man answered.   
  
"My husband always spoke so highly of you. Have you found your son?"  
  
"I'm still looking."  
  
"Mr… Daven," James said, faltering. "Can I trust you to see that Mrs. Adams is safely returned to her home?"  
  
Young Carissa stopped listening to the conversation taking place on the docks. She realized who the other man was and looked up at her older self. She opened her mouth to ask, but Old Carissa put a finger to her lips and shook her head.  
  
"It's time to go home," Old Carissa told James and her younger self.  
  
As Young Carissa grabbed onto Old Carissa she cast an amazed glance back to the docks. Her Uncle Liam was alive. William Davenport was in Port Royal.  
  
_____________________________  
  
AN: I had an incredibly hard time writing the violence and incorporating the points of misunderstanding. This might actually read as a really awkward chapter, but I hope that I make up for it by incorporating William Davenport. I'll give you three guesses who the man's son is... 


	7. Chapter 6: All You Wanted

Summary: It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, and a doting father-daughter bond. With this chapter, a father still looks for his son.  
  
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the readers who have been patiently waiting for a little romantic payoff from the end of Chapter 4.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
Disclaimer: Other than Disney, I must mention Sandra Brown... as I attempt to pay her an homage. I must also pay tribute to Jack Davenport and his performances as Peter Smith-Kingsly, Miles (from "This Life"), James Norrington (which really goes without saying), and Michael Colefield (Ultraviolet). The combination of which was very helpful in establishing the presence, seductive power, and masculinity of the character which appears here.  
  
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Chapter 6: All You Wanted  
  
~~San Francisco 2007—Carissa is 25~~  
  
The clear ding of the bell rang through the air as William Davenport appeared inside an empty elevator. His brother had a lot to answer for. Henry promised to let him lead his own life without any interference. He knew that his older brother didn't agree with the way he chose to use his gifts, but to go back on his word…  
  
William angrily stalked down the hallway of the San Francisco apartment building. His mood hadn't been improved by the fact that he didn't automatically land inside the apartment. He took a deep breath in order to expel some of his anger. It wouldn't do if his niece were to see her uncle in a state of violent anger. The door opened and William was suddenly standing face to face with his brother's wife, the always stunning Marissa.  
  
"Good, it's you," William said curtly as he walked into the apartment. "Marissa, can I please just say that your husband did you a huge disservice in taking you back with him. You could have jeopardized the work I was doing. Do you know what would have happened to that woman if you or Henry—wherever he had been in that moment— had gotten in the way?"  
  
"Uncle Liam, my father had nothing to do with it," the woman was saying. "And it wasn't my mother you saw. It was me."  
  
William's eyes widened as he realized that he was speaking to a very-much grown up version of his own niece. She was the spitting image of her mother, but the look in her eyes belonged to her father.  
  
"Where is your father, Carissa?"  
  
"He and my mother died," Carissa said quietly.  
  
** ** **  
  
~~Port Royal 1702: Elizabeth is 20, James is 29, and Carissa is 11~~  
  
All the want and all the melodramatic grief was all for naught. He asked for world enough and time. And she—the faithless—had forgotten it in a moment of misunderstanding. Where had it all gone—all that time?   
  
Elizabeth was once again in her room, and in her present. She cursed Carissa for gaining the understanding that she could not. Life was perfect. All the pieces fit. She'd learned to forget an ancient and inappropriate infatuation with a man almost a decade her senior. She'd learned to feel at home in the arms of another man—a boy she had once regarded as a brother. She didn't want to remember how she could lose herself in James's eyes—those wonderful windows into his soul. She no longer wanted to possess those exhilarating memories of flying through the air and into his waiting arms. She didn't want her heart to soar that way again. It was a childish infatuation… feelings of no consequence.  
  
She let her feet pace around the room. She let the restlessness of the moment inhabit her movements. And, before she knew it, her feet set out a destination and she was compelled to follow. Step by step she followed, paying no mind to those around her.   
  
Eventually, she found herself at the door to the Commodore's house, relieving the one matronly maid. Elizabeth heard herself tell the woman that she herself would look after the Commodore so that she could spend the day with her children.  
  
"Yes Miss Swann," the woman said, both wide-eyed and grateful. "Commodore Norrington would not permit me to enter his room to serve him, and he said no one was to enter the house save you."  
  
"Thank you for the information, Mrs. Wright," Elizabeth told her. She waited for the woman to leave, then said, "You're relieved Mrs. Wright."  
  
The woman eyed her curiously. An old suspicion stirred in the mind of the astute housekeeper. It had been a few years since she'd seen the governor's daughter look this way, and she suspected that the reason was the same as before. Elizabeth was the picture of the wide-eyed teenager she had once been—when it was a gross impropriety for the then-upstart captain to closely involve himself with the girl not yet grown. The pity was that there was now a broken engagement surrounding this picture of love-renewed. Mrs. Wright debated whether or not to allow this surreptitious meeting between the master and the woman now affianced to William Turner. After a moment, she silently took her leave of Miss Elizabeth. Whether James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann meant to reconcile or whether they decided to carry on a clandestine affair under the nose of the blacksmith's apprentice was none of her concern. She heard nothing. She saw nothing.  
  
Once alone, Elizabeth took in the scene around her. All this was meant to be hers. She now understood, as she hadn't allowed herself to before, that everything he had worked towards for the past several years had been for her sake. James only strove to deserve her, as the governor's daughter. She climbed the stairs and slipped into his bedchamber. The room smelled like him—a hint of basil and whatever it was that gave him that wonderfully masculine scent. Knowing that she was completely alone inside the house, she made her way to his bed. It was still in a state of dishevelment, and that made her smile. She lay on the bed, breathing in his scent, and missing him terribly—the man she remembered… the man who had never really changed.  
  
"How could I have been so wrong about that night?" she asked his empty bedroom.  
  
"I'd pushed you away—afraid that your father would want to kill me," James's voice came from his doorway. "I was afraid that he'd see how much I wanted you…"  
  
Elizabeth's eyes met his. He was wigless, his dark hair falling onto his brow. He was dressed in the style of Carissa's time. She looked beyond him for evidence of the other girl. She was rapidly growing jealous of the time Carissa spent with James, and resenting the insight she had into their lives. Satisfied that he was alone, her eyes met his again to find that his blue eyes were clouded with dark intensity. He continued to speak as he made his way towards her.  
  
"… Afraid that the whole of this colony would see that I was ready to pluck a bud barely in bloom, but think that it was for selfish political purpose and not borne of the love, tenderness, and genuine passion…"  
  
He was sitting beside her on the bed. Her gaze never leaving his, she dipped her head to his hand resting on the pillow beside her, placing a kiss on his knuckles. The gesture matched the one he'd made all those years ago. And it was as though she had applied spark to tinder. James had been waiting too long. He'd held himself back too tightly, conforming to the role of the proper gentleman… the epitome of Mr. Procedure. When her lips touched him, he sounded his need in a low, masculine growl. He flipped her onto her back and rose above her.   
  
She made no protests and he bent down—his lips firmly pressed against hers. Before she had the chance to respond, he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. An involuntary sound escaped her when his tongue separated her lips. It brought with it the taste and texture of a man— a mingling of cognac and power. He kissed her expertly, brooking no resistance. She met his passion with her own.   
  
James felt both a surge of triumph and the hot swell of possessiveness. Tossing the pins, one by one, out of her hair, he buried his hands within the silky mass as he held her head still for his kisses. His chest was pounding. He needed more, and he slid a hand over her shoulder, down her breast, memorizing every swell and peak that each one of her curves presented.   
  
The stiff material of her gown stood as a fortress between them. He tugged at the fastenings. He gently pulled the gown down over her shoulders. His hands moved over her shift and it followed the same path as her gown until her bosom was exposed to his gaze. Drawing in a harsh breath, he lifted his hand to trace a path down from her throat.   
  
"Christ," he muttered and buried his face in her neck.  
  
As his kiss turned wilder and hungrier, Elizabeth clutched handfuls of his shirt. Their bodies were combustible, each as hot as the other. Within his stroking hands her breasts were full and flushed… raised and responsive.   
  
"James, James," she called out in breathy moans that stirred his conscience along with his senses.   
  
If only she wouldn't say his name… the name that was calling him back to himself. It wasn't as though he didn't want to hear his name on her lips. He loved that she was calling out his name. But it reminded him that he was James Norrington—a man of honor. And what he was doing at that very moment with her, a woman engaged to another man, was not honorable.  
  
Releasing a harsh breath, James broke the kiss and removed her hands from around his neck. He pulled the shift and gown back into place. And he secured the fastenings with gentle thoroughness.  
  
Then he held her tightly for a long moment. "I'm sorry," James muttered. "I lost control of myself."  
  
With great difficulty, he stood and walked to the other end of the room. He dreaded having to turn around and face her, knowing that her pride would require that she pierce his heart with a look of contempt. But he had to meet her eyes again, and make her understand. After taking a moment to gather his strength and mental clarity, he turned around. Instead of meeting the contempt he expected, he found that she looked stricken.  
  
"Elizabeth," James said gently, "you're still engaged to Mr. Turner."  
  
.  
  
Will Turner sat stupefied on a rock in the Commodore's garden. He'd caught sight of Elizabeth walking alone returning from a delivery. Hoping to surprise his beloved, he'd followed her, waiting for the opportune moment to take hold of her hand and sweep her into his arms. But before he could overtake her, she turned into the walkway leading to Commodore Norrington's house.  
  
Awkwardly, he ducked behind a carriage as she turned to look over her shoulders. She hadn't noticed him and he continued to watch her as she walked inside. Shortly after, the Commodore's housekeeper made her way down the walkway with a pensive expression on her face. It wasn't the expression of a woman concerned over the health of her employer. He could read the air of disapproval in her quick, severe steps. When he was satisfied that the woman was gone, he made his way up the walk into the garden and stood below an open window—to what he guessed was the Commodore's room.  
  
"James… James…" came the voice of Will's beloved— ecstatically moaning the name of another man.  
  
It seemed like an eternity before Will heard anything else. But the voice of the Commodore soon drifted out the window.  
  
"I love you… yes. But you're betrothed to another…"  
  
Then, Will heard her speak endearments that she had never graced upon him. She told the Commodore that she should never have doubted… Doubted what? His head was spinning as he clumsily made a move to sit on a large, nearby rock.   
  
A mere two days ago, Elizabeth had told him that there was nothing but friendship between her and Norrington. Only a few weeks ago, she had been relieved that she was no longer obligated to keep her promise to him. Why was she now throwing herself at Norrington's feet… jumping into his bed?   
  
He heard the shuffling of footsteps around the corner of the house and them a soft thud that came from the inside of the house. Will rose to investigate. One of the windows was open, and he peered inside. A peculiarly dressed girl with dark hair was shuffling about inside the Commodore's house, making her way up the stairs. Will gingerly climbed through the window and followed her. He had the strange feeling that he knew this little girl. He listened to her footsteps and followed the sound.  
  
He could, again, hear Norrington's and Elizabeth's voices, and realized that the little girl was going towards them.  
  
"I have to go back, Elizabeth," Norrington was saying. "The child still needs me, and, for you, there are things which need sorting out."  
  
"What else is left for me to understand… to learn?" Elizabeth asked him.  
  
"Do you love me, Elizabeth?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you still love Mr. Turner?"  
  
There was a pause during which Will felt a numbness start at the top of his head and trickle down the rest of his body.  
  
"Yes, I still love him," Elizabeth said hesitantly. "But I don't know whether I could still love him as a husband."  
  
"I hear Carissa on the landing… the little sprite and I must go," Norrington said urgently. "You will deliver these messages to my officers?"  
  
"I'll have my father see to it," Elizabeth said resignedly.  
  
Will peered down the hallway after the little girl. Norrington's chamber door was open and he could see Elizabeth sitting on his bed with a peculiarly dressed Norrington standing over her with his hand resting on her cheek. She was looking up at him in unreserved adoration. Will's breath stopped in his chest as he realized that this wasn't the first time he'd seen her look at Norrington that way. When they were younger, he would always catch her sneaking sidelong glances at the older man. However, shortly after the first ball that her father threw for her in the mansion, she'd look at Norrington with a sort of hurt contempt and call him a hypocrite. Will realized that he had been playing second fiddle in the wake of a misunderstanding. He continued to watch as the little girl entered the room and took Norrington's hand.  
  
"Lizzie, we have to go," the little girl was saying. "I have to take my *uncle* James to a parent conference?"  
  
Will watched as Elizabeth's brow furrowed and Norrington shook his head exasperatedly. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pinch of pain where his neck met his back. He started getting dizzy again. He felt someone pick him up as all the colors around him faded to black.  
  
_______________________________  
  
Upcoming: Someone walks over a young woman's grave... Cataclysm threatens lives as something/someone disrupts continuity. The romance continues...  
  
A/N: I'm feeling a little disheartened by the lack of response I've had to the last couple of chapters. Have people lost interest? 


	8. Chapter 7: Say What You Want

Summary: It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, Greek Tragedy, and a doting father-daughter bond. With this chapter, a son meets his father, brothers are in conflict, and elements of noir are introduced.  
  
A/N: A little bit of history.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
Disclaimer: Other than Disney, I must, again, mention Jack Davenport along side Idris Elba (as "Ultraviolet" characters Mike and Vaughn) for the brotherly interaction that ensues here. Again, I have to give anachronistic credit to J.M. Barrie for Peter and the Lost Boys.  
  
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Chapter 7: Say What You Want  
  
Will Turner found himself within a dream—nay, a memory. The images were vivid, but blackened round the edges. It was no doubt the result of his forcibly induced stupor.   
  
He was once again a very young lad aboard the ship that had rescued him in 1792. And he was watching her. She radiated brilliance, and he knew that he was meant to worship at her feet.  
  
"En garde, James!" Elizabeth said, drawing out a thin wooden pole. Her face fell as she realized that not only was she not holding her 'sword' correctly, but she had just called him by his Christian name as well. If other officers were around, her father would certainly hear about this. "Wait, sorry. I didn't do that right."  
  
Lieutenant Norrington smiled. "Pay it no mind, Lizzie. No one is watching. Now raise your sword like I showed you before. Yes."  
  
Norrington tentatively, with a wooden rod of his own, started with a simple backhanded attack au fer.  
  
"Now, parry," the Lieutenant said. "That's right."  
  
"Does this mean that I'm getting good enough to join Peter and the lost boys?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
Will watched as Lieutenant Norrington stiffened briefly before his whole body seemed to go limp. He was looking at Elizabeth with a mixture of sadness mingled with fear. It was almost as if the man was afraid that Elizabeth would burst into flame in front of him—loss and burning pain about to occur simultaneously.  
  
"Yes," Norrington said, his voice sounding strained. "If you don't mind, Lizzie, I'm not feeling particularly well. Can we continue your lesson later?"  
  
"Daddy's not watching again, is he?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
Norrington smiled and gently tapped her chin. "No, Lizzie. But perhaps you had better go attend to young William and make your father happy with a show of domesticity."  
  
Little Elizabeth nodded. She would have done anything to continue fencing lessons with Lieutenant Norrington and train to be the lost girl traveling with the heroic lost boys he always talked about. She had a sneaking suspicion, as she once told Will, that the Lieutenant went around with the lost boys when he was younger.  
  
Will watched the lieutenant slowly walk away from young Elizabeth. And, with eyes that had one-and-twenty years of experience behind them, looked on as little Elizabeth cast adoring glances full of hero worship at the young lieutenant. Will, in his memory, realized that moment was the first of countless moments that he'd caught Elizabeth looking at Norrington that way. As the years passed them by, those looks grew more intense—until a few years ago when she'd started to look at Norrington with the bitterness of a scorned lover.   
  
It was there, within the landscape of his memory, that Will realized that he'd played second fiddle to Norrington past. But he vowed to himself that he would show himself superior to the present Norrington. Now that he had the woman that he loved, he had no qualms about fighting to keep her.  
  
~~San Francisco 2007: Carissa is 25~~  
  
Carissa's eyes flashed as her Uncle Liam appeared with her unconscious cousin, William Turner. If she hadn't been exasperated with her uncle, she would have laughed. Will Turner really was, as it had been said, the spitting image of his father… Why she had never recognized the resemblance between Will and her uncle during all her visits to Port Royal, she didn't know… Nor did she know why her father hadn't told her before he died. And she guessed that her father hadn't shared this information with James.  
  
It had only been through her mother's old journals—boarded up in the old Los Angeles house— that she'd learned any of this. She sighed recalling the experience walking into the dark, dusty house. The dark emptiness scared her. She had only been sixteen at the time—searching for old scrapbooks. What she had found astonished her. Her Uncle Liam, during his days as a university student, had been an activist. Feeling rebellious, he'd gone back to the 17th Century to subvert the slave trade in any way that he could. Carissa had read about the many fights that her uncle and her father had over this issue.   
  
"Henry, your father, always told me that it was foolish to do that," Liam told his niece. "He said that it was dangerous, that I could get lost at sea, and various other laughable things. He once even got so desperate that he said that I could drastically change the course of history—which we both knew was untrue. If continuity worked that way, he'd still be here."  
  
"But you had to engage in piracy to make any sort of dent in the slave trade," Carissa said, pursing her lips. "Daddy knew that you would sooner or later find yourself at odds with our ancestors."  
  
"None of us even wanted to think that I was meant to be responsible for the death of any of our fathers or vice versa… and I was always careful."  
  
"I won't argue with you Uncle Liam. I don't want to lose you the same way my mom and dad did. I'm too old to act like a self-righteous teenager. Besides, you have Will for that," Carissa said, pointing to her unconscious cousin. "You know, he's taken after you."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Flouting authority alongside the great Captain Jack Sparrow, and falling for a woman he's destined to leave," Carissa said, and then paused for a beat. "Although, I think that the interruption of this sick little Oedipal trajectory makes his abandonment justifiable."  
  
"I didn't want to leave Katherine… she didn't want to come with me," Liam said quietly.   
  
Will Turner awoke with a start. He heard the voice of a man and a woman, but they didn't belong to the Commodore and Elizabeth. As he opened his eyes, he was startled to find himself in a room almost entirely decorated in squares and cubes… and everything was plain. His eyes fell upon the source of light. It was a lamp that had no flame. Where was he?  
  
He turned his head, and through his squinted eyes, he saw an oddly dressed woman and a man that looked familiar.  
  
"Hello William," the woman said.   
  
Will sat upright and gave her one discerning gaze. What he saw was impossible. The woman before him was the exact replica of the little girl he had just followed through the Norrington house. This had to be the mother.  
  
"Madam, your daughter…"  
  
"Uncle Liam, what's he talking about?"  
  
"He was following you through the Norrington household," Liam whispered. "James and Elizabeth were en flagrante, as it were… Well, before James remembered that he shouldn't be thinking with his…"  
  
Carissa pursed her lips and shot her uncle a look that could freeze water. And it hit Liam, as it hadn't registered before, that this woman in front of him wasn't his brother's wife, but his brother's daughter. It wouldn't do to be crass in front of his niece—even if she was a grown woman of the 21 st Century.   
  
"Will," Carissa said, turning to her cousin. "It's nice to see you again, and nice to finally be able to speak with you face to face. My name is Carissa Davenport."  
  
"Miss Davenport, would you be kind enough to tell me why exactly I find myself in this peculiar place? And where are your daughter and Commodore Norrington? I was under the impression that she was in his charge."  
  
"That wasn't my daughter. That was me," Carissa said evenly. "And it was your father who brought you here."  
  
"She's your cousin, son," Liam prompted. "And I don't suppose that you remember me."  
  
Will took a good look at the man sitting before him. His hair was short and gray. The jaw was a bit thicker. But it was, indeed, his father with the same twinkle in his eyes tempered with the lines of determination written on his face.   
  
"But the pirates said that your bones reside in the depths of Davy Jones' Locker," Will said in amazement. "How can it be that you are alive? And how can it be that, in mere moments, my cousin can have grown from a child to a woman?"  
  
"Magic, Will," Liam answered. "We are part of a legacy of magic that runs deep in our family… abilities written in our blood."  
  
"If you gentlemen will excuse me," Carissa said politely, "'I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.'"  
  
Besides, her uncle had a lot to tell Will, and she knew that she shouldn't be part of that conversation. She didn't envy the task of revealing to Will that his engagement to Elizabeth could never reach its full fruition. The curse that would keep him from the woman he loved was greater than the curse which had, for years, plagued the Black Pearl. It was the curse of heredity… the same curse which had plagued Oedipus Rex of Ancient Greece. She didn't want to be privy to the sadness that was sure to follow that revelation. Though she had often, in the past, found the behavior of her cousin to be irritating, her heart went out to him knowing that, on the heels of his discovering Elizabeth's emotional infidelity, he would also learn that the love he harbored was cursed. She didn't want to witness the feeling of futility and desperation that would no doubt appear in her cousin's eyes. She didn't want to channel those feelings having already been on intimate terms with them.  
  
Carissa walked out her door and made her way down the hall towards the elevator. It seemed that her feet had already charted a course that she merely followed. As she stepped into the elevator, she leaned back and let her head hit the wall and shut her eyes. She felt the familiar dizzying sensation, but was unclear of her destination.  
  
She felt a light drizzle of rain on her skin. It gave her a pleasant cleansing sensation. She opened her eyes and smiled. It was him.  
  
"Oh," she said in delighted surprise. "It's you."  
  
"It's been a long time," he said, taking her in his arms.  
  
~~Los Angeles 1987: Liam is 22, Henry is 30, Marissa is 28~~  
  
"Liam, this bullshit has to stop," Henry told his little brother. "It's one thing to go back and engage in radical activism in secret, but it's quite another thing to play unlawful vigilante as a pirate. Does everything have to be a spectacle for you?"  
  
"I'm not like you Henry," Liam said. "I like getting credit for what I do."  
  
"But you're fucking around with shit in history books," Henry said, raising the volume of his voice. "Have you read those? Do you know how most of those rockstar pirates of yours ended their careers?"  
  
"Most of them were assholes. You know the work that I do."  
  
"This better not be to impress some girl," Henry said sternly. "Fooling around with a 17 th century girl isn't smart, Liam."  
  
"Fuck you," Liam said to his older brother.  
  
Marissa stormed into the living room and leveled deadly glances at the men in her life.   
  
"You two better watch your language," Marissa said evenly. "You two know what a mimic Carissa is. I will not have my daughter swearing like a sailor at the age of five. What's going on here, anyways?"  
  
"It seems my brother has fallen in love with a woman who is over two-hundred years old," Henry told his wife, scowling.  
  
"That doesn't seem so bad," Marissa said, patting Liam's shoulder.  
  
"And he's turning pirate," Henry added.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You act like I'm raping and pillaging," Liam said. "That's not what I'm doing. What Jack and me are doing—we're like abolitionist Robin Hoods."  
  
"Liam, do you have any idea who James Norrington is?" Henry asked.  
  
"The ancestor that dad was named for," Liam said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Do you have any idea what James Norrington was famous for?"  
  
"When he became governor of Port Royal, he made it slave free and did something or other with sugar," Liam shrugged.  
  
"Before that, he was Commodore Norrington of the King's Navy—the scourge of piracy in the Spanish Main," Henry said, with a mocking smile.   
  
"So?"  
  
"I believe what Henry is trying to say," Marissa said gently, "is that you shouldn't have to put the poor man in a position to arrest you."  
  
"Exactly," Henry said, offering his wife a genuine smile. He loved that she was so diplomatic.   
  
"I understand that," Liam said. "But I have to do this. You're right. I've fallen in love. I can't leave it behind."  
  
"Let it go, Liam," Henry said. "You don't belong over there. If you get too involved in her life, it will just make things worse. Who is she?"  
  
"Katherine Quincy," Liam said. "And I'm not ending it. If I have to choose between 1987 and 1679, I'll choose 1679. If I have to choose between life as Bill Turner and Liam Davenport, I'll be Bill."  
  
"Liam…" Henry started, sternly.  
  
"No, this argument is over," Liam said. "We'll talk later."  
  
And with a pop he was gone.  
  
_____________________________  
  
A/N: Sorry for the wait, I'm usually a little more prompt with the updates... This came a little more slowly than the rest because it's difficult to make exposition readable.  
  
So, now you know. Will Turner is a decendant of Commodore Norrington and...  
  
Carlses: I didn't really end on a cliffhanger this chapter around, but one of the story arcs has one. As for hell breaking loose-- right now, hell is still in the bottle. Wait until you find out what Carissa is into... and when Will finds out where exactly he comes from.  
  
Catherine: What is going to happen to Will? Does he find out about his love's curse? Which life does he end up choosing? You'll just have to stay tuned to find out. 


	9. Chapter 8: Give Me A Reason

Summary: It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, Greek Tragedy, and a doting father-daughter bond. With this chapter, a son meets his father, brothers are in conflict, and elements of noir are introduced.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the wait. Finals, and recovery from finals.  
  
Ship: The HMS E/N  
  
Disclaimer: Other than Disney, I must, again, mention Jack Davenport for his work on "Ultraviolet." I should also mention Victor Garber as it is his recent work that informs the characterization of James in the latter half of this chapter. Again, I have to give anachronistic credit to J.M. Barrie for Peter and the Lost Boys. Oh!-- and special thanks to my beta Jen... though, there were just two changes that I couldn't bring myself to make.  
  
*****************************************  
  
Chapter 8: Give Me A Reason  
  
~~Port Royal 1702: Elizabeth is 20~~  
  
Elizabeth was still languishing in James's bed, wondering what she was going to do. What could she tell Will?   
  
"Miss Swann," a familiar voice said from the balcony. "You were the last person I was expecting to find in the good Commodore's bed. Does this mean that you kept your word and married him?"  
  
"Jack Sparrow," she said, pursing her lips and raising a brow. "Paying a visit to a man duty-bound to see you swing from the gallows—why?"  
  
"He wasn't supposed to be here, and I am here to deliver a message. Now answer my question."  
  
"I am still engaged to Will."  
  
"Yet I find you here," he said. Then he raised his hands to stop her explanations. "It's none of my affair what you are doing here, and why. I made a promise to a dying woman, and I do not go back on my word."  
  
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows quizzically, but said nothing. Sparrow extended the sealed missive to her, and she silently took it from him.  
  
"See that your Commodore reads that."  
  
Then, without much ceremony, he jumped off the balcony, swung from a branch, and landed with a thud on the ground. The pirate's abrupt exit left Elizabeth to ponder the story behind the missive she held in her hands.   
  
To: James E. Norrington, esq.  
  
From: Mrs. Peter Norrington  
  
Peter. It was the name of the heroic figure in all of the stories James told her as a child. Peter was the boy who never grew up and lived to fight the evil pirate captain with the hook. As she stared at the name, it occurred to her that this name had something to do with James's stories. But unlike the Peter in those old stories, it appeared that this one had grown up and taken a wife.  
  
Elizabeth smiled softly recalling the stories. At one point, she fancied herself a pirate hunter running off with Peter and his lost boys. She remembered the fencing lessons with James, when she thought it would be fun to have a go at Captain Hook with a sharp steel blade. As a child, she never once considered that she would ever kill any of the pirates. She had thought that she might spar with them as she did with James. She'd also thought that James would be standing there along side her with a long, steel blade of his own… a trusted grown-up among the ageless children. She shook her head at the silly dreams and flights of fancy. The real thing had been nothing like the scenes in her imagination.  
  
She turned her attention back to the letter. Those sorrowful glances James had cast in her direction during her youth every time she expressed a desire to join the heroic Peter rose to the surface of her memory. Those glances, she now realized, had been edged with fear. Who was Peter Norrington, and had he been the basis for those stories long ago? Was he the person who inspired the few moments of fear and terror that she'd witnessed in James? She was tempted to open the missive for some answers.   
  
Pop.  
  
Elizabeth didn't bother to turn around. "What now, Carissa? Have I stayed too long here? Has my father sent out a search party?"  
  
"Sorry," a male voice said. "I am obviously not the Davenport that you were expecting. Carissa is otherwise occupied, so you, madam, are stuck with me. It's nice to finally meet you Elizabeth."  
  
"I've seen you before," Elizabeth said, abruptly. "You were there the night those women…"  
  
"Good memory," Liam mused. "Though, I don't know why I should be surprised. I'd never known that you were on the docks that night."  
  
"I saw everything," Elizabeth said, grimacing. Then she raised her eyes to his suspiciously. "I don't even know your name."  
  
"Liam Davenport," he said. "Carissa's long-lost uncle."  
  
Elizabeth shot a look of disgust at the man.  
  
"You needn't look at me like that," Liam said. "I didn't intentionally abandon the child. I was working here. I didn't even know that my brother and his wife died."  
  
"What were you working on that could be so important that you would abandon your niece?"  
  
"The abolition of slaves-- both African and disenfranchised women forced into the service of unscrupulous men," Liam answered. Elizabeth could see that he found the subject embarrassing and awkward.  
  
"James was working with you," Elizabeth murmured more to herself than to him. Then, remembering her sense of propriety, she asked, "So, you and the Commodore had already planned an intrigue?"  
  
"Your James was a reluctant abolitionist," Liam said. "Had it not been for the deathbed promise he'd made to Lieutenant Adams, he certainly would never have made an appearance. You see, Elizabeth, James made a promise to his best friend to protect his widow. Lieutenant Adams had many enemies due, in part, to his work with me and gambling debts that he owed."  
  
"So that was why he was there with her…" she murmured under her breath, realizing that she had not been witness to the beginning of an illicit tryst.  
  
Liam's eyes widened as she spoke. "Begging your pardon, Elizabeth, but if you didn't know that, how has it passed that I now find you loitering like a lover in the man's bed chamber? I was laboring under the apprehension that the little sprite revealed... that is to say, you no longer feel betrayed by..."  
  
"He has always loved me," Elizabeth said simply, handing the man an unassuming leather-bound book, embossed with silver-leaf. On the inner flap, an inscription was written.  
  
'To: Miss Elizabeth Swann on the eve marking her 16 th year.  
  
With all the care I possess,  
  
James Edward Norrington'  
  
As Liam flipped through the volume, a single sheet of paper floated from the pages and up into the air.  
  
~~San Francisco 1993: James is 29, Carissa is 11 and 25~~  
  
James shut the door behind the middle-aged woman that had been hired to keep house for them. Henry and Marissa, before their death, had taught him the essentials of the kitchen. He'd caught on quickly enough, but all the same, he was glad when the Older Carissa hired help. Truth told, the year he'd spent on his own with the little sprite might have been bleak for him had it not been for the appearance here and there of the grown-up sprite. It was Older Carissa that had arranged for James to teach the art of fencing to university students. After that, he'd gotten quite accustomed to life with his progeny. He cast a glance toward the young sleeping girl and smiled slightly.  
  
"How was your trip back to Port Royal this afternoon?" asked Older Carissa from the kitchenette.  
  
He hadn't heard her pop in—must have been as he'd shut the door.  
  
"It was wonderful to see her again," he told her. "I had forgotten how hope can have the power to regenerate happiness."  
  
He caught a momentary flicker of sadness in the woman's eyes. The powerful flash of pain was squashed as she cast her eyes towards the floor. It was something, James suspected, that she learned from him. When her eyes met his again, the curtains had once again been drawn over her emotions.  
  
"Hope has the power to do many things," she said enigmatically. "I'm glad you've found some."  
  
"Am I right to hope?" he asked, waiting intently for her reaction.  
  
Her eyes widened, as if his doubt was the last thing she was expecting. The slight purse of her lips also told him that she was a bit disappointed that the doubt appeared. So the pain was from her love, then.  
  
"You have the best instincts I've ever known in a man, and your faith is always well placed," she said, emphatically. "So, why are you asking the question?"  
  
"Has he hurt you?" James countered.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The man you were thinking about just now."  
  
"I hurt myself." She opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly thought the better of it. "But we're talking about your love, not mine. Why are you asking me for confirmation on your future? You've never asked that of me before."  
  
"She still loves the young Mr. Turner."  
  
"She is very fond of him, yes. But, if she loved him so much, what was she doing in your arms? With whom did she spend many childhood hours discussing everything from literature and music to the art of sailing? Who did she spend more time with?" Carissa quickly rattled off question after question. "And didn't I just show you that with the desperation of a young woman in love, she followed you to the docks to have her heart cracked—albeit erroneously through a misunderstanding? I don't understand how you can doubt her feelings."  
  
"She hasn't been the only one in all of this who has suffered a damaged heart," James said quietly. His voice sounded almost hollow. "Not many moons have come and gone since I've asked after the residence of her heart and the answer was..."  
  
"James, I'm so sorry. I forgot," she said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to be insensitive. But don't you realize that..."  
  
"She might have been doing that to hurt me the way she thought I'd hurt her?" James asked, balking with a wry smile. Then he grew sober. "It had crossed my mind. But what I learned from that experience, once-and-future daughter of mine, is that I want to be sure that if we do join our hearts together, that Elizabeth and I both give the whole of our hearts and not just the pieces. She deserves no less than a life without regret."  
  
James watched as Carissa's eyes watered. He noticed that she seemed to be absently touching a ring that hung on a chain about her neck. He wanted to say something, but thought the better it.   
  
"She loves you, have faith in that."  
  
"Will you at least tell me what caused a woman, who previously had been determined to give her heart to another, to linger in my bed like Eve with her damned apple?" James asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface.  
  
Carissa's eyes widened. This show of soft-core misogyny on the part of a man who she, in almost every way, regarded as her father was unsettling. She sometimes forgot the symptoms of her disjointed continuity— she was almost as old, in years, as he... and he was as much a product of his own time as she was of her own. She regarded his question for a moment, unsure how she should respond. Part of her wanted to scold him for referring to the love of his life as an evil seductress. Another part of her acknowledged that he didn't mean it. And most of her wanted to answer the question, but...  
  
"I honestly don't know, James. She has never shared with me her reasons. All I can tell you is to have faith, and that it will turn out all right in the end."  
  
But how, sweet child, how? He desperately wanted to continue questioning Carissa, but he knew it would be fruitless. He held his tongue and did the next best thing. He searched his child's eyes for answers. He'd learned, long ago, that this child could not keep hidden her secrets if one looked into her eyes—and if the looker knew what he was searching for.  
  
Suddenly, he was hit by a series of images that flashed briefly through his mind: this grown child, her eyes filled with immense pain and tragedy, pale blue fabric floating through the air, the ocean, a ring and a book at his feet, a man standing stoic, and another man diving from a cliff. He took a sharp breath. Strange that he should be having a disturbing daydream at this moment. He sighed, letting the images float away on that breath. And he looked at Carissa again. In that look, he was struck by the sense of certainty—and it gave him what she had called faith.  
  
________________________  
  
Upcoming: The main players must all make some hard decisions... An epiphany comes to our hero... James needs to face a horrible memory without the help of Carissa or Liam. 


End file.
